


The Call to Arms

by Faceworthy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bar, Gen, Scared Millennials, Sydney Harbor Bridge, terrorist attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 17:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11605530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faceworthy/pseuds/Faceworthy
Summary: Found my USB and found this gem. Thought to share with you_ the people.You're Welcome.The moment news breaks inside a dingy dance club in Sydney's West that the Sydney Harbor Bridge has fallen and the one person there who understood.





	The Call to Arms

For a long time no body spoke as the news exploded into information. No sound came from the TV, an effect of Saturday night party music the DJ had been blaring out over the dance floor for almost 4 hours. But he had quite smartly turned all his equipment off once no one was paying him any attention.  
The bartender, alone in his bar as the other 2 were probably making out in the store room, scrambled around under the counter to find the remote control to unmute the screen.

“For fucksake!” shouted a very on edge young man, who was sobering up very quickly, climbed onto the counter and jammed the buttons on the side. He changed the channel by accident, much to the chagrin of the bar but they needn’t have panicked. The news was on every channel. He found the volume after a few vexing seconds and then jumped down again to stand with his fellows.

“Unsettling, even panicking things are happening in Sydney and we’re not entirely sure what has happened, but Sydney Harbour Bridge has fallen,” the news reader stated, her voice wavering slightly under the impact of the words. “We have reports flooding in that there was an explosion prior to it falling, but there has been no word from authorities whether that is in fact the case. We have been informed that the navy has taken to the scene and have begun rescue attempts for those who have fallen into the water, but there doesn’t seem to be much hope that many, if any survived the fall.”  
The bartender climbed onto the bar and quickly gained everyone’s attention.

“There are two phones down near the bathroom and I’m handing out coins to any one that needs to make a call to their families!” he called. “And I got one phone at the register for anyone who needs a taxi!”  
It was at his call, phones were dug from hand bags and pockets, then the panicked murmurs spread as family and friends answered their phones.

“We now go live to Sydney Harbour.”

Silence, or as close as it could get with people rushing to the phones out back, descended once again and most eyes turned to the TV.

The centre arch of the bridge was collapsed into the water, smoke pillared away from its crumbled edges out of the water and even from across the water sirens blared and lights flashed as emergency teams evacuated the bridge and surrounding area.  
Anguished cries rose up in the bar and people bolted for the door, not even waiting to hear what the on the scene news reader had to say about it, just wanting to get home as quickly as possible.  
One girl began sobbing as she looked bleary eyed at her phone as she dialled again. “I can’t reach my mum, I CAN’T REACH MY MUM!” she wailed. No one tried to comfort her, as those around felt the panic seep from her to them.

“What did we miss?” asked a female bartender as she emerged from behind the scenes, her tie askew and closely followed by a young man with tousled hair. She was half smiling at every one before she recognised fear and at the gesture of some party goer looked to the TV.

“JESUS CHRIST!” she screamed and with barely a glance pulled out the remote control and turned up the volume to an almost unbearable level.

“Turn it down I can’t hear my dad!” some kid up the back shouted and the first bartender, the one everyone would remember as a nice heroic guy, snatched the remote away and turned it back down.

“Goddamnit Danni,” he barked and practically slammed the thing down on the counter next to the open register.

“We don’t know if this is some kind of terrorist attack, but if it doesn’t then those who maintain the bridge will be called upon to answer questions about the safety of the- integrity of the structure.”  
This reporter, a young man, is much more contained than the news anchor but everyone watching can see the red around his eyes and the way he moved in jerking twitches.  
The bar erupted in screams as on the screen, the half of the TV screen that had held the onsite man suddenly cut out. Some ran from the bar, pelting out onto the street and others panicked in the bar, screaming and carrying on while the bartenders cut their losses and bolted out the back door, leaving the place to whatever fate would come of it. They were only casuals. What did they care?  
Many took that as the proper cue to bail. The entrance clogged with people as they fought their way onto the street, leaving the TV on and a small fortune’s worth of DJ equipment behind.

The last person remaining eyed the equipment with a calculating gaze but decided against it, turning her attention instead to the TV once more. The woman on the news was fighting off a breakdown but it was a losing battle. She explained in a weak way that they were experiencing technical difficulties and that they would return on site when they could. The news suddenly cut to commercials and that was all.  
The last in the bar, a woman in dark clothes, finishing a beer on a bar stool. She drained her glass and stood, wiping away the droplets that had falling from the corners of her mouth and stood with a sigh.  
“This I could have gone without today.”


End file.
